


living in a powder keg (we're giving off sparks)

by christchex



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: I'm Sorry, M/M, adult emo punk alex, gratuitous meme references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 15:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20509442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christchex/pseuds/christchex
Summary: Michael is getting his life together and moving on. He is. He really really is. It's just that Alex isn't playing fair.Or, an excuse to write Michael thirsting after Alex.





	living in a powder keg (we're giving off sparks)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BeStillMySlashyHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeStillMySlashyHeart/gifts).

> I'm so sorry for all of my nonsense. This is 1000% for Marlo who is wonderful and lovely and just wanted this fic to exist so much. It's changed a bit since we originally talked about it... now it's somehow more over the top and ridiculous. I'm just sorry that I put this into the world. I think my calling might be writing thirst fics though...
> 
> I would like to give a huuuuuuge thank you to Tove and EssCee for looking over this ridiculous garbage fire and loving it anyway. Also for correcting my typos, my awful grammar, and my forgotten words.

Michael could kiss Arturo for how early The Crashdown opened. The sun barely broke the horizon, but there he was unlocking the doors. It was a blessing back when he’d wake up early to tend to the cattle, it was an even bigger blessing now when he could barely sleep from nightmares and memories. 

“You’re here early,” Arturo said as he sat at the counter. Arturo set down a mug and said, “pot’s just finishing up. You going for the pancakes today?”

“Christmas style, if you don’t mind Mr. Ortecho.” Arturo just smiled at him in response. He had long ago given up on trying to get Michael to call him anything other than Mr. Ortecho. 

“It’s what I’ve called you as long as I’ve known you,” he’d argue each time. “Not changing it now.”

Michael sat at the counter and tried not to let his eyes close. He was tired, exhausted really, but all that he’d see when he closed his eyes was Max, a collapsed building, the look on Alex’s face when he said he didn’t love him. 

Arturo filled his cup, left only a little bit of room near the lip. 

“Looks like you need it today,” he joked. 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Arturo looked up as the door’s bell rang. He smiled. 

“Now I don’t expect you here this early,” he laughed. “And in such clothes! Where on earth could you have been dressed like that?”

A voice behind him laughed. Michael knew it well. 

“Let’s just say I had a very late night Arturo,” Alex Manes said with a chuckle. “I’m only now getting back in to town.”

Michael couldn’t imagine what look could have brought about Arturo’s comment. He certainly couldn’t imagine what could have kept Alex out so late. He was out of the military now, retired or so Liz had said. No orders or duties could have kept him out all night. It was pleasure then. 

Michael didn’t really want to think too hard on that. 

He swirled around on his stool to look at Alex, and look at him he did. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Alex like this, or anywhere near it anyway. His pants were tight, definitely not jeans or any material Michael could imagine squeezing into. His shirt was mess, long sleeved and black, but Michael could still see his abs, his chest, the light dusting of hair. Michael tried not to think about where Alex had been so early, dressed like every single one of Michael’s high school fantasies. He tried not to think about who else had seen him like that, maybe touched him in that. He tried not to think about hands that were not his own scratching down the mesh shirt, inching inside those tight pants. 

It took all of Michael’s self control to look away. It took all his self control not to look back down. Instead his gaze moved to Alex’s face. 

It felt like getting punched in the gut.

He had eyeliner on, his nose piercing in, a smirk on his face. His hair was longer now, tousled and all Michael could think about was running his fingers through his hair and pulling. 

It took him several long moments to realize Arturo had been talking to him. It took him a moment longer to realize his churro pancakes were in front of him. It took him a beat or two longer to tear his eyes away from Alex. 

He sent Arturo a quick flash of a smile in thanks before he started eating. 

It wasn’t until later that he realized how ridiculous he had looked, mouth gaped wide as he stared at Alex. 

It wasn’t until much, much later that he realized how well and truly fucked he was. 

-

He was at Bean Me Up trying to have a nice coffee date with a very nice girl who he had no intention of seeing again, not seriously anyway, when he spotted dark clothes against the violent green backdrop of the coffee shop. 

Sometimes Michael really hated how obsessed Roswell was with aliens.

It wasn’t so much that the dark clothes caught his eye, but what the black t-shirt actually had on it. He knew that shirt. It had been hidden in his drawers for years, faded band logo the only hint that the shirt wasn’t originally his. He didn’t even know it was missing.

He tried to turn his attention back to his date, a very pretty girl who just moved in to town and didn’t yet know about his history of bar fights. She just thought he was the cute mechanic. It was nice.

Michael tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter it wouldn’t last long. That hadn’t been the point. The point was to finally move on, to stop holding out hope for something that should have died a long time ago.

His eyes fell back to Alex, to the tight pull of the shirt across his shoulders. It had been loose once, back when it was still relatively new, before Michael had spent too many summer nights pulling on it, tugging it over Alex’s head. It’s been less faded before Michael spent two years wearing it to bed almost every night before he hid it away.

It looked good. The black against the glowing tan of Alex’s skin was beautiful. From where he sat Michael could see the way those tight jeans hugged his thighs but was not tight all the way down. Michael couldn’t imagine trying to put skinny jeans on over the prosthetic was fun. It was like Michael was looking at the man Alex might have become if he didn’t run away to the Air Force at 18.

Michael averted his eyes when Alex turned around with his coffee. He tried really hard not to notice Alex’s hands wrapped around his coffee cup as he walked by, but the black nail polish made a sharp contrast to the white cup. He absolutely didn’t spend a wistful moment thinking about those hands in his hair, so that only a flash of black could be seen beneath the tangle of his curls.

He shook his head and brought his attention back to his date with a smile and an apology for spacing out.

There wasn’t a second date.

-

Michael hadn’t necessarily been avoiding The Wild Pony, but he had been keeping his distance. It was a matter of respect. He respected Maria too much to spend every evening there, especially when she asked him not to. He respected her feelings, and what could have been between them, too much to ignore her. He wouldn’t bring his dates there. Really, he only spent one night a week there, always with Isobel and Liz at his side. He spent most of his time outside of the Airstream or out at Isobel’s house. In desperate times, when he needed a drink and the buzz of people around him but no actual company, he made his way to Saturn’s Rings.

He was at the bar, beer in hand and a smile on his lips. Flirting with Eric was easy. They had hooked up once during Michael’s post-Caulfield spiral, a long series of weeks where he tried his damnedest to ruin every aspect of his life. There really wasn’t much of that night that Michael remembered. Eric had been nice the time they’d seen each other and had laid the offer of a more sober fuck on the table. Despite the offer, they had settled into something close to friendship, or at least something friendly. They had an easy banter, the kind he once had with Maria, the kind he was trying to get back with Maria.

Eric had just given him a new beer when Eric stopped and stared at the front door.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck. Who let him be that hot?”

Michael was used to that. There wasn’t a single guy who passed him by that Eric didn’t think was hot.

“Is he really though?” Michael joked as he turned around. “Or is he just tall?”

Michael couldn’t keep his own breathy “fuck” to himself when he turned around and saw Alex.

He was definitely, definitely that hot.

Michael couldn’t get over it, the way Alex’s hair was always tousled now that he could wear it long again, just like how it used to look when Michael would run his fingers through it well before it became regulation short. He was back in those jeans that hugged his thighs and his ass. He had on another band t-shirt, a new one this time for a band Michael had never even heard of. He shrugged out of his leather jacket as he scanned the room. 

There was a breathless moment when Alex caught sight of him. There was a breathless moment where Michael thought Alex would make his way across the bar to him.

He didn’t.

His path back to whoever he was meeting took him right by Michael and Eric. Michael watched as Alex wet his lips. There was a flash of silver. Alex passed by with a light “Hey Guerin” and made his way to a table full of military-looking men. There was another flash of steel when he spoke.

“Jesus christ,” Eric said once Alex was out of ear shot. “Jesus christ he has a tongue ring.”

Michael wasn’t sure his brain was functioning. He wasn’t sure that was really what he saw. Yes, Alex had piercings in high school, his ear and his nose, but he had preferred rings and necklaces then, obvious signs of teenage rebellion that could easily be taken off or hidden.

He did not have that in high school, Michael would have remembered. He would have remembered through every lonely night and every fight and every single time they crashed back together again.

It wasn’t going to happen this time. It was not. Michael was moving on and he was giving Alex the space to do so as well.

Eric turned to Michael with an accusing look.

“Who is he and how do you know him?”

“Alex, and I’ve known him since high school.”

Eric turned his gaze back towards Alex’s table.

“Fuck man, Guerin you have to set me up.”

Michael spat out his drink. He turned to glare at Eric.

“No.”

“What? Why not?” Eric asked as he handed Michael more napkins. “He’s hot and I’m hot. It’s perfect.”

Michael wiped up the mess on the bar and ignored the spills that landed on his black shirt.

“I am not setting you up with my ex,” Michael growled.

“Hey! You said nothing about him being your ex!” Eric had a point.

Michael just took a sip of his beer. He had no response to that. He glared down at the bar top and reminded himself that he was moving on and that meant Alex could move on too. Just not with Eric.

He spent the rest of his evening drinking and ignoring Eric’s questions. He tried to ignore Alex and his fucking pierced tongue only three tables away. It really didn’t work.

-

It felt like Alex was haunting him. Everywhere he went he saw Alex, dressed up like an emo punk’s dream and Michael was not prepared for it. Honestly, he was dressed like  _ Michael’s _ dream, the one he gave up on years ago. This Alex dressed like himself, the one Michael knew best, but older, more meticulous. Before he had chosen outfits that would shock, more interested in the reaction than the clothes themselves. 

Alex cared about the clothes now. It was the only explanation. It explained why he wore dark tones, clothes that were fitted and obviously well made, pieces that fit him, personality, body, et al. Alex had finally grown into himself, had the space to do so.

Michael was proud of him, proud of him for finding out who he was outside of the military. As he spotted Alex outside The Crashdown, walking side by side with a man Michael didn’t know, he was glad that Alex was finding out who he was without Michael. He was moving on, they were  _ both _ moving on. It was good for them.

Michael caught the glint of sunlight off of the silver ring around Alex’s thumb. He caught the smirk on Alex’s face as he walked by Michael’s booth in the diner. He caught the way Alex played with his ring, tan hands and black nails.

He didn’t catch Arturo’s amused smile or Kyle Valenti’s glare from the counter. He didn’t catch the way he ignored everything else around him. He was fixated on Alex’s hands, on his fingers, as they slowly turned the ring around and around and around, a smirk on his face.

Suddenly Michael wasn’t so sure that Alex wasn’t dressing for the attention.

Fuck.

-

Sundays were The Wild Pony nights for Isobel, Liz, and Michael. By the second week of Alex’s transformation from military man to hot yet refined punk, Michael insisted that they could no longer face the pool tables.

“What is wrong with you?” Isobel asked, as blunt as ever. “This is your spot! Our spot! We always sit here!”

“Yeah Mikey,” Liz joined in. “You always complain every time we try to get a booth. What’s changed?”

Michael did not want to admit that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Alex, from where he draped himself over the pool table to line up a shot, from how he cocked his hips as he leaned on his pool stick while Valenti took his shot. He couldn’t look away from where Alex’s leather pants displayed everything. He couldn’t look away from Alex’s black nails as the scratch at his stomach and exposed a strip of skin.

He didn’t even realize Liz and Isobel were still talking.

“Really Michael,” Isobel said. “What has gotten into you?”

He avoided her eyes.

“Anyway,” Liz said as she sent Michael one last curious look. She turned back toward Isobel and continued the conversation they had previously started. “You should come out with us the next time! It’s so much fun! Plus Alex can actually dance, unlike Michael.”

Michael couldn’t even get offended, it was true.

“Maybe,” Isobel said after a moment of thought. “I’ve been liking his look recently. It’s not nearly as garish as it was in high school. He’s got that bad boy edge to him now.” She smirked at Michael. Michael glared back.

“It’s nice that he’s becoming comfortable with himself again,” Liz said with a smile in her voice and a level of complete obliviousness to the layer of conversation going on around her. “When we both first got back, he just seemed so sad, you know? And just so tired, like he was tired of pretending and having to be someone else.” She smiled over at Alex and Kyle. “I’m glad he’s got himself back. And I’m glad he and Kyle are friends again.”

Michael couldn’t entirely agree. He didn’t hate Valenti the same way he used to, the man saved their lives too many times for that, but he was always suspicious of his motives. Michael hated the way he was around Alex, how he would throw an arm around Alex’s shoulders, how he’d pull him in for hugs. He hated that they had an easy time just being around each other. He hated how Alex’s kohl-rimmed eyes seemed to smile at Valenti, the way they used to smile at Michael.

At some point Michael’s gaze turned back to Alex, who had been chewing on the corner of his thumb nail. The silver ring on his finger reflected light right into Alex’s eyes, making them glow. The sight of the black nail so close to Alex’s lips made Michael want to stalk his way across the bar and pin Alex to the pool table before he grabbed his hand and put Alex’s thumb between his lips.

Somehow Michael had forgotten how crazy Alex’s hands used to drive him.

He met Alex’s eyes for a moment, the heat and the challenge in them made Michael snap his attention back Isobel and Liz.

So that was Alex’s game: torture.

-

Michael sat in the plush chair with a sigh. His coffee sat in front of him, in a mug covered in alien heads that all ‘For Here’ orders at Bean Me Up got. Not for the first time he cursed the town’s obsession with aliens. It was really good coffee though, and Michael needed a moment where he could just sit, drink his coffee, and not worry about anything. He didn’t have to think about Isobel all alone in her huge, empty house. He didn’t have to think about Liz and how close she was to perfecting the power-enhancing serum. He didn’t have to think about Max, about his words about being normal and  _ moving on _ and. And Michael could take a moment to do nothing but sip his coffee and not think. About anything. Especially not about Alex as he looked the night before, lit by the neon signs at The Pony. He glowed and Michael couldn’t remember the last time he looked that happy.

That was a lie. The last time had been at the drive-in, when Michael had agreed to stay for a movie he hated because the man he loved asked him to.

Michael was doing a frankly awful job of not thinking.

He picked up his coffee and leaned back into the armchair. He had snagged one of the best seats, the most comfortable one in the entire cafe. It faced out into the cafe, snug against a corner so no one could sit down next to him.

He sipped at his coffee, a single origin Ethiopia Yirgacheffe that is too expensive to get often so Michael made it into a reward. This week’s challenges were:

  1. to not get blackout drunk and start a fight
  2. to call and text Isobel everyday to make sure she was okay

3.to help Liz with the serum and not forget to eat lunch the whole time

  1. to not grab Alex by the belt loops of his tight ass pants, back him into the nearest surface, put Alex’s fingers into his hair, and kiss him until they could barely breathe.

The list hadn’t changed much week to week, but where Michael would lapse on the first three every once in a while, he always managed to succeed on the fourth. This week had ended with no bar fights, a week of good communication with his sister, breaks and breakthroughs in research, and Michael not giving in to Alex and his torture techniques.

This was growth. This was another good step toward moving on.

Michael placed his coffee down in front of him. He was about to start reading a new article on his phone when he noticed someone plopped down across from him. He looked up only to see Alex.

He wasn’t wearing eyeliner this time. His eyes still looked beautiful. He was in his new regular clothes, dark colored t-shirt, a deep burgundy this time, and his black jeans. He had his rings on again. He placed his alien mug down near Michael’s.

“Hey Guerin,” he said casually as he sprawled across the armchair. He had a book and glasses in his hand. He put the glasses on and started to read.

Michael was not prepared for the sight of Alex in glasses.

That was it. That’s all he said. He just said hi and then just ignored Michael. His eyes were fixed on his book, every once in a while he’d look over to the table, grab his latte and take a sip.

Michael wasn’t quite so focused. He alternated between looking at his phone and watching Alex. Alex had that little furrow between his brows, not an irritated one but one of concentration. It was cute.

Michael looked down at his phone quickly when Alex’s eyes lifted from his book. Alex grabbed his latte and took a sip. When he set the mug back on the table Michael chanced a look. Michael hadn’t thought that Alex could look any cuter than he already was. But there he was, glasses on his face and a dollop of foam stuck on his lips.

Michael rethought the whole ‘cute’ thing when Alex flicked his tongue out to get to the foam. Michael watched, transfixed, as Alex swept his tongue along his bottom lip. Michael watched as Alex swept his tongue along the bow of his lip, watched as he tried to reach a bit of foam at the corner of his mouth. His tongue ring flashed in fluorescent lights of the cafe. He watched as Alex wiped at his mouth, black polished nails dragging across the pink of his lips. At some point Alex stopped looking down at his book and instead looked at Michael.

“Coffee’s really good here,” Alex said once Michael noticed him looking. Alex smiled and went back to his book.

Michael didn’t say anything back, too busy mentally turning to goo.

His weekly challenge of not just grabbing Alex and kissing him was getting more and more difficult.

-

He really needed Isobel and Liz to move their Sunday night drinks somewhere else.

It had become Alex’s newest form of torture: trick shots across the pool table, always always in sight of Michael. He’d spend long moments in thought, absentmindedly stroking the pool stick, as if he was considering his next shot. His face was carefully blank every time, but Michael knew. He knew it was all for Michael, just wasn’t sure why.

He watched as Alex walked to the far side of the pool table. His eyes flickered between the balls and Michael. Michael watched as Alex dramatically bit his lip before he lined up his shot. He watched as Alex did this over and over until he finally missed.

Alex smiled and shrugged. He looked over when he heard Liz’s jeer.

“Oh!” He called. “Think you can do any better Ortecho!”

“You know I can,” Liz called back. Alex made his way closer to their group at the bar. “I seemed to remember wiping the floor with you just the other week.”

“I seem to remember that you were cheating.”

Liz made a mock-offended face. “Well I would never!” She cried in an overly dramatic fashion. “How dare you accuse me of such misdeeds! I was not the one trying to tickle her opponent when she was shooting.”

Alex laughed at that and stuck out his tongue in a childish gesture that had no business being as cute as it was. 

“Don’t know who was doing that, definitely wasn’t me.”

They both laughed before Alex returned to his game with a wink.

“You know,” Liz said to Michael and Isobel, “I keep forgetting about the tongue ring.”

“I didn’t even realize he had one,” Isobel replied, a smirk on her face. It was her lying face and Michael wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know what she was lying about. “Doesn’t seem very military.”

“Oh, no. He got that right after his retirement went through. He said something about a dare? I keep forgetting he has one, because it just seems a little not like him?” She shrugged. “I know he had piercings in high school, but a tongue ring is different? I don’t know.” She lowered her voice a little. “It’s not even the only one he got. Apparently there are more. I think he went a little overboard with the whole ‘I can do whatever I want’ thing now.”

Isobel made a scandalized noise of pure delight. She shot a wicked look toward Michael.

Michael wasn’t listening to Liz though. He was too caught up in the idea that there were other piercings in other, non-visible places. Michael needed to know what they were.

Maybe Michael wasn’t quite as ready to move on as he thought he was.

-

The torture continued for weeks. Everywhere Michael went Alex was there to, at Bean Me Up, at Saturn’s Rings, at The Wild Pony, everywhere but the Airstream itself. Michael couldn’t take it much longer, not with the way Alex looked. It wasn’t even that he looked more attractive, quite frankly Michael would find Alex attractive no matter what. Hell, even in his fatigues Michael still thought Alex was the hottest person on Earth. It was more than that. Alex was self-assured. He was comfortable. It looked like he had finally found self-acceptance and it looked good on him.

Michael thought that he’d look pretty on Alex too.

He wasn’t stopping himself from those thoughts, not now. Not when it was so obvious that Alex was doing it intentionally. Michael wanted to think he was doing it to finally push him over the edge. Or, and Michael hoped it wasn’t the case, Alex just wanted to show Michael how much better he was now that they were officially over. He doubted it, but it was still a possibility.

He had to prepare himself, just in case.

He took a deep breath before he knocked on Isobel’s door to announce his arrival. He heard a yelled greeting from multiple voices as he made his way through to the kitchen to drop off the cake Isobel asked him to pick up. They were having a Happy Resurrection! party for Max. Michael was particularly proud of his “Congrats Alien Jesus” banner across the living room.

Alex was the only one in the kitchen. He was in his new usual garb. He looked as beautiful as always. He hadn’t noticed Michael yet, so he took a moment to take Alex in. There was never a point where Michael tried to convince himself he didn’t love him. Sure, he tried to move on, but at no point did he try to lie and say there wasn’t love.

He hoped they could get it back, one day.

He watched as Alex busied himself in the kitchen, completely at home in Isobel’s house. It made Michael wonder just how much time they spent together. It was definitely more than Michael realized.

Alex turned and took a stutter step back in surprise.

“Oh,” he said. His voice was low, Michael barely even heard him. “Hey,” he said slightly louder. “Didn’t hear you come in.” He smiled at Michael.

Michael smiled back. “Yeah, I could tell.” He let his voice have a warmth to it that he hadn’t allowed for months. To be fair, the majority of the recent interactions involved Michael mentally turning to mush. “Just brought the cake.” He nodded to the box in his arms. He opened the fridge with his telekinesis and placed the cake safely inside. “Need help with anything?”

Alex smiled at him but didn’t say anything at first. He just looked Michael over, considering. His smile took on a feral edge as he said, “sure Guerin.”

Alex turned so that his back was to the counter. Slowly he started to take off his rings, one by one. His movements were deliberate, first a twist of the ring and then the slow removal from his finger. Michael watched transfixed. Once upon a time this meant Alex’s fingers in places that would drive Michael crazy. 

Michael missed whatever inane thing Alex said he needed help with, all his attention was on Alex’s fingers, their movements, the glint of the rings as they twisted and then the soft clink as they hit the marble countertops. Despite the pretense, Alex never lifted his eyes from Michael’s face. His mouth was set in a challenge, wild yet controlled. His eyes though, they held desperation, as if this was his last chance, his last hand to play and if it didn’t work it was over.

They knew, now, that neither of them wanted it to be over.

As the last of Alex’s rings hit the counter Michael sprang into action. He crossed the slight distance until he had Alex pinned against the counter top.

“Alex,” he breathed out, face close. “You can’t keep doing this to me.” His expression was pained as he spoke. “Not touching you is impossible. I can’t stop myself anymore.” He rested his forehead against Alex’s temple. “I can’t.”

“So don’t,” Alex whispered back. He moved his head so that Michael’s dragged against his own until their noses brushed. “Don’t stop yourself.”

“We were moving on Alex.”

“I wasn’t,” Alex said, less an admission and more a statement of fact. “I wasn’t giving you up without a fight Guerin, not this time.”

Michael felt fingers tangle in his hair and closed his eyes. He hadn’t had this for months, almost a year. He hadn’t had Alex this close since it all fell apart.

He didn’t want to hold back. He wanted to sink deep into Alex and never let him go ever again.

He bumped his nose against Alex’s one more time before he leaned in for a kiss. Alex gave a sound of relief into the kiss and tightened his hold on Michael’s hair. One kiss turned into two, which turned into Michael learning exactly what Alex’s tongue could do with the stud in it.

“I love you,” Michael whispered between kisses. “I love you so much but you’ve been killing me.” He kissed Alex again. “Piercings? Nail polish? Were you trying to remind me of what we had?”

“Yes,” Alex answered simply. “Plus, this is me,” he shrugged. “I just wanted to be me again, finally.” He kissed Michael again.

“But piercings? Seriously? Do you know how many times I almost said ‘fuck it’ and just kissed you?”

“Honestly? I was hoping you would,” Alex replied after another kiss, this more decidedly dirtier than the ones before. “Besides, you haven’t even seen the best one.”

Michael made a strangled noise as Alex pushed their hips together.

They were interrupted by a noise of disgust.

“Please, this is my kitchen,” Isobel complained as she walked to grab the salad. “I do not need you two having sex in here, and in front of my salad.” With a look of annoyance she left the room.

Alex just pulled Michael in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> There is nothing I could say that could justify this. 
> 
> You can find me over on [tumblr](http://michaels-blackhat.tumblr.com), being ridiculous and also probably complaining about my classes now that they're starting up again.


End file.
